


Quarantined

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal does not like Will's aftershave, Hannibal has no suits, Hannibal in sweats, Hannibal is pining, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Shopping at Walmart, Will and Hannibal in quarantine, Will is worried, handjob, stuck together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: En route to Kansas City for a murder case, Hannibal and Will get an urgent call from Jack, telling them to self-quarantine immediately in a small cabin near the woods.Shopping at Walmart, one double bed and no suits will bring them both a lot of 'firsts'.-“Perhaps we could...” and before Will could turn, an arm extended before his chest to pick a bottle from the pile. “...forgo this for the coming weeks?”Hannibal had appeared beside him, and Will saw the cart he was dragging after himself filled to the brim with cans, bags, bottles and packages. Toilet paper, too.Hannibal had been smart rather than stubborn by forgoing the fresh, perishable produce, and Will was relieved to see it. The look in those amber eyes, however, was... haunting.“That's my aftershave,” Will frowned, as he watched the glass bottle with the little blue ship being removed from the basket.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 70
Kudos: 1114





	Quarantined

Fifteen hours on the road, before the phone call came.

Will had been asleep for five of them, lulled to peace and rocked to slumber by the gentle rumble of the Bentley as conversation about murder cases, psychoanalytic tactics and chamber music faded to the background.

Will had dreamed. He had been standing by an apple tree in his garden, and watched as Hannibal stood high upon a ladder, picking the biggest apples from the branches and eating them straight from his palm, a juice red as blood staining his mouth and chin.

But it was the low boom of Jack Crawford's voice that guided him from the garden and shook him from his slumber: “-unsure, but the prediction is that the situation is only going to get worse.”

Jack's words sounded from the speakers of Hannibal's radio, and Will jolted upright, seeing how the car still glided them over the freeway. 

On the horizon; Kansas City. Almost there.

His gaze shifted left, where Hannibal was watching the road and holding the steering wheel with light, sprawled fingers. Their eyes met, briefly, as Hannibal nodded towards the phone, tucked away in the dashboard's holder.

“Will has joined us, Jack,” he aimed at the microphone, as his lips twitched into one of those barely-there smiles. Will refrained from huffing, quite forcefully so, as he pulled up his nose. _Hannibal could have woken him._

“Hello, Jack,” he rumbled, his voice still rough with sleep and drought. Fingers rubbed his eyes. “What's going on?”

Hannibal leaned back in his seat, eyes returning to the road with slack arms and shoulders.

“What's going on, is that you two have to get off the road as soon as possible,” Jack replied sharply over the speaker.

Kansas City; _ETA 27 minutes_ , the phone indicated. “We're nearly there. Barely half an hour until we reach the city center,” Will said, yawning until his jaw popped. 

“And only about fifteen minutes away from the cabin,” Jack said, openly pondering something beyond Will's knowledge. “Yes, yes, that's good.”

Will's forehead folded in as his eyes searched Hannibal's again. The doctor met his gaze, held it for too long, per usual, but didn't speak.

“I still don't understand what's going on,” Will gritted, shooting Hannibal an irritated glance at his silence. “What cabin? What are you talking about?”

A sigh came through the speakers, sounding wet and tired to Will's ears. “That virus that's been going around... it's spreading a lot quicker than anyone could have imagined,” Jack said, and Will heard his thick fingers tap on the desk he was undoubtedly sitting behind. “The country is going to be on lock-down soon and everyone who's been in contact with an infected individual is now obligated to self-quarantine immediately.”

Will blinked. 

_Oh..._

_What?_

He looked out the window, saw the busy road and at last noticed the skittish driving that surrounded them. In front of them, two cars almost collided as one tried to push to the other side and get off the freeway. A lot of honking followed suit.

There was an atmosphere, a brewing jitter, of unease.

“Jesus. You take a 16 hour road-trip...” he said, fogging up the window.

“...and the world is off its axis,” Hannibal's voice finished thick and smooth beside him. Will rolled his head against the window, watching Hannibal as he drove, unruffled, and heard him speak a little louder, a little clearer, than he normally would. “Like I said, Jack, I don't believe that either Will or myself have been in close contact with...”

But Jack cut him off.

“You have,” the FBI agent spoke curtly through the distorting speaker. “ _I'm_ sick.”

Oh. Double fucking Oh.

“I tested positive for the virus. No serious symptoms yet, but I'm under supervision and quarantined from Bella.”

Will winced until his cheeks hurt, turning his eyes onto the road ahead, “Oh shit, Jack,” was all that pushed out of him as he watched a car speed past them in the left lane.

Hannibal's eyes were on the traffic, but his mouth was stern, his fingers harder on the wheel. “I'm sorry to hear that, Jack,” he responded much more appropriately, and briefly met Will's eyes with something unfathomable. 

Concern, perhaps. 

Even for an empath like Will, Hannibal was hard to read.

If it was concern, it was hardly unfounded. They could be infected. They had to self-quarantine as soon as they...

“Listen,” Jack waltzed over their words of compassion. “They're closing down the roads tonight until further notice, so you'll have to stay in Kansas city.”

This time, their eyes met harder, wider.

_Oh. We're not going home on Monday._

“We can... get to the hotel,” Hannibal hesitated, forced to break eye contact with Will when the traffic slowed before them. “Ask them to extend our stay.” 

They were nearing the exit.

“Forget the hotel,” Jack snipped. “Bella's family owns a cabin near the city border where you can both stay.”

A cabin.

Hannibal inhaled through his nose. A deliberate sound. Eyes met, once again, with uniting, prickling understanding.

It was cheaper. The cabin was cheaper.

“Well, maybe we could...” Will started, unsure of what to think of the proposition, hidden inside a command. A cabin, he knew, was usually a limited space with very little... privacy. If he was going to bunk there with his psychiatrist... that could very well become an awkward amount of personal.

Jack didn't hear him. Or he just didn't listen. “I'll have the neighbors drop off the key on the porch,” he blustered on. “It's a good place. There's a refrigerator, a freezer, an oven/microwave combo...”

Ai. This time, it was Hannibal who winced. That was probably the oven/microwave combo...

“I'll send you the address by text. Pick up groceries for two weeks and stay at the cabin until the department contacts you and tells you it's safe to go out.”

This was all going... confusingly fast. Hannibal remained eerily quiet beside him as Will blinked, words stuttering around his lips before he could form a sentence. “B-but... what about the murder case?” The reason they were coming to Kansas in the first place. “The hairy, dead guy with the daffodils planted in his armpits?”

It was a particularly odd and dead-ended case, which was why Will had been asked to come and assist so far away from Baltimore. Hannibal had promptly offered to drive, as flights were already being canceled.

“Forget the case,” Jack scolded, as if he hadn't woken Will up in the middle of the night with the demand he would go there to sort this mess out. “The killer probably didn't like the way he smelled.” And if that wasn't top notch profiling... So why did they need Will again? “We'll look into it when this is over.”

Will swallowed, openly expressing his distaste with his facial expressions only. Like a coward, really.

“Fine,” he said, a little disgruntled, as he watched an incoming message pop up on the screen. The address.

“We will keep in touch,” Jack said, before a dry cough sounded from the other side of the line. “In the mean time, wash your hands and stay indoors.” 

Will felt light-headed as Jack grunted his goodbyes.

“Feel better, Jack,” Hannibal said, as his finger moved to the red button on the screen.

“Yes... bye, Jack,” Will said, and watched Hannibal disconnect the call.

The road was still ahead of them. The sun hid behind a puff of clouds, and in the car was silence.

“Jesus,” Will hissed after a moment of deep, deep breaths. Hannibal's fingers softened on the steering wheel. 

“How are you feeling, Will?” he said with soothing tones, as if testing the water with a big toe.

Laughter bubbled from Will throat, as he planted his elbow against the window, and used his hand to support his head.“I must admit...” he offered with a dry chuckle. “I'm a little overwhelmed by this.”

He looked to see Hannibal smile, as a gentle laugh chimed in to match Will's. “As am I,” he said with an amused nod. “This development doesn't surprise me, but it is most definitely...” Teeth pulled on a plush bottom lip. “untimely.”

Will scoffed. “Drastic,” he said, as he slid his head to rest against the window, and felt the car shake his skull against the glass.

The world had suddenly become a dangerous place. More dangerous than he had already known it to be.

“Do you...” he started, shuffling his feet against the floor mat. “...feel sick, in any way?”

He shifted quick eyes to Hannibal, who hummed almost pleasantly. “Not at all.”

Will sniffled, dry. “Neither do I,” he shrugged. He felt like someone who had just woken up from a nap in the car. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

It didn't mean anything. It didn't change anything either. He was still forced to spend at least two weeks inside a space with his psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter. Accomplished, handsome and with a different understanding of personal space. The extrovert to his introvert. 

The man he considered a friend. His one friend.

Dear Lord, if this wouldn't wreck into that.

“I'll drive us to a nearby supermarket,” Hannibal said, and Will sighed as he rested his head against the seat. 

“Great.”

Hannibal Lecter in a supermarket. That he would ever see the day...

**

“We must make sure to keep a five-foot distance from other people,” Hannibal warned, as they walked past the sliding doors.

“Have you ever been in one before?” Will asked, as they pushed a cart through the rather crowded aisles.

“A what?” Hannibal said, looking wildly out of place in his three-piece suit beneath the cheap fluorescent light. His nose in a constant state of disapproval.

“Walmart,” Will said, gesturing one theatrical hand around them as he parked their cart by the detergents. At least there, it wasn't as crowded and noisy around them.

“Not before today, no,” Hannibal said, pursing his lips as if he smelled something foul. He probably did.

“Oh boy,” Will huffed, watching Hannibal as he in turn watched the shoppers that loaded their carts full of toilet paper, beer and soap.

“Are you sure you're not feeling sick?” he asked, a slight tease in his tone as he watched Hannibal's skin glow pale beneath the surface. 

“Appalled by the consumerism of mediocrity,” Hannibal answered without a beat, and Will laughed out loud, startling some shoppers around them who looked at him with berating glares.

“Welcome to the land of the free,” Will said, and was pleased to see Hannibal's lips quirk upwards ever so slightly. “You want to split tasks and leave quicker?”

Hannibal didn't hesitate to agree to his suggestion, but was very resolute about his share. “I will do the food and drinks,” he said. 

Great. “Whiskey,” he named his only request, and watched Hannibal narrow his amber eyes.

“I'll see if I can find something that resembles it,” he replied sceptically, as his hands curled around the cart, claiming it as his own

Fine. 

“I'll do toiletries and clothes,” Will said. Soap. They needed lots of it. Antibacterial hand gel, tissues, razors, shampoo...

“Clothes?” Hannibal shook him from his mental list with eyes that looked positively... alarmed. Clothes. Of course that was going to be a thing.

Will sighed. “Do you want to go weeks with one pair of underwear and socks?” he asked, knowing Hannibal had packed for two days only, just like him. That three-piece suit was not going to be a pleasant option over the course of weeks of house-sitting. 

Maybe they had something with an elastic waistband.

“Is this where you start to panic?” Will asked, when Hannibal only stared at him with eyes that were deep pits of empty. Or perhaps, too full.

“I'll meet you here,” Hannibal only replied, before taking the cart. “No polyester.” And Will watched him glide away through the crowd. 

He huffed.

The swan in the duck pond.

**

T-shirts. 100% cotton. That would work, wouldn't it? A size Small for him, and a Large for Hannibal.

A gray pair of sweatpants with a white drawstring and an elastic waist... probably not Hannibal's style, but desperate times demanded desperate buys. A soft, bordeaux hoodie with a zipper, a navy sweat shirt, black socks, boxer-briefs... black? Yes, black would be best.

Shopping underwear for his psychiatrist was not an activity he had ever pictured himself doing, but the basket on his arm soon filled up with undergarments, shower gel, long-sleeves and mouthwash.

“Perhaps we could...” and before Will could turn, an arm extended before his chest to pick a bottle from the pile. “...forgo this for the coming weeks?”

Hannibal had appeared beside him, and Will saw the cart he was dragging after himself filled to the brim with cans, bags, bottles and packages. Toilet paper, too.

Hannibal had been smart rather than stubborn by forgoing the fresh, perishable produce, and Will was relieved to see it. The look in those amber eyes, however, was... haunting.

“That's my aftershave,” Will frowned, as he watched the glass bottle with the little blue ship being removed from the basket.

Hannibal hummed, visibly searching for the words as his eyes lifted briefly to the ceiling. He settled on a soft and gentle: “I have a very delicate nose, Will,” and shot Will an apologetic look when he widened his eyes.

“And you _hate_ the smell of my aftershave?” Will exclaimed, trying to keep his pitched voice down as he thought of all the times they had sat in Hannibal's office together, or the 16 hours in the Bentley. Seats close.

And all this time Hannibal had disliked his scent?

It was as irritating as it was embarrassing.

“Why cover your natural scent with something so mundane and manufactured?” Hannibal answered. Amber eyes slid briefly to Will's neck, and Will suddenly felt very... naked...under those eyes.

His natural scent? Sweat and dog, usually.

Hannibal pretended not see his his flustered state, Will knew, as his fingers worked over the products in Will's basket. Silent, but judging.

“It's just clothes,” Will said, before realizing that was probably not the right approach when Hannibal's fingers contracted on the plastic basket. “It's all they had,” he tried again. “And we're not parading around town. No one is going to see you.”

Hannibal straightened and turned to Will. Maybe it was the awful fluorescent light, but again, those eyes were unreadable depths as he said; “You will see me, Will.”

Well, yes. 

“How about you will wear these, and I won't wear _that_?,” he said, pointing to his trusty bottle of aftershave as Hannibal pushed it back on the shelf. The doctor didn't comment, but obediently followed Will and the full cart to the conveyor line, clothes still in the basket. 

Hannibal in sweats. 

Hannibal in sweats. 

Despite the dire situation, Will couldn't help but grin at the prospect as he loaded the items into the bags.

**

“This must be it.”

The cabin was a modern looking square with white walls, interrupted by pale bricks. Relatively new, by the looks of it, and located by the edge of the woods which consisted of high, dark cottonwood trees.

The key was on the mat, as promised, brought by a neighbor Will could not detect. The place seemed void of any other buildings or people. Not even the freeway could be heard over the rushing of the gently-swaying trees.

“Let's see.”

Will watched Hannibal's elegant back in his tightly tailored coat as the man strode to the door, and pushed the key into the lock. What was revealed was...

“Cozy,” was the first thing that sprung to Will's mind, following Hannibal over the threshold. 

One large room, complete with a kitchen, a sitting pit, a fireplace and stairs up to a mezzanine.

“Indeed,” Hannibal replied, after a flat silence between them shimmered away.

One room. No privacy.

Hannibal walked past the pit, consisting of cushioned seats and with an electric fireplace in the middle, and went straight for the kitchen. Will followed, but didn't stop until he was by a single door in the back. The bathroom.

White and gray, natural stone, a rain-shower and bath. 

“This isn't bad.”

There was no reply, and Will turned to see Hannibal inspecting the kitchen with squinting eyes. A granite counter, a double, stainless steel fridge...

“This looks decent too,” Will said, running a finger across the counter. Not a speck of dust.

Hannibal opened the combo oven with a twitching hand as if afraid the device would bite him. “Opinions may vary,” he spoke stonily, and Will couldn't stop himself from chuckling out loud.

“Afraid you can't impress?” he teased. No suits, no extraordinary food and wine... No harpsichord to entertain.

Hannibal didn't join his clear ring of laughter, but his lips jerked at the sound. “I must admit, the thought is disconcerting,” he confirmed with a genuine hum that made it impossible for Will tell if he was joking. 

He scratched the back of his neck, smiling his teeth bare at the doctor. Will couldn't fathom what it was that Hannibal believed he still had to prove. To him, to anyone... The man had already shown so much skill in everything he had touched, and knowing he, Will, could finally see the 'perfect' doctor wearing _normal_ clothing and eating food from a can would be a nice, and wanted, tip of the _human_ scale.

There were sliding doors leading to a small terrace outside, with a tiny shed holding folding chairs and a modest table.

“I guess we are allowed fresh air,” Will said, tilting up his chin as he looked up at the high trees of the bordering forest.

“Imagine that,” Hannibal humored him as he stroked past Will to step back inside. Their shoulders brushed, and Will followed him with his gaze before his feet traveled after.

The last place to inspect was the mezzanine, and being the first to go up the staircase, and much too aware of his butt being on complete eye-level with Hannibal's face, he quickly stepped into the open space. There, he spotted the first real problem.

“Ah.”

Hannibal's body heat stroked his back, and Will quickly took another step in to give the doctor some room.

“One bed.”

One, queen-sized bed, covered in lovely white and fluffy sheets, and a pair of round, puffy pillows. It looked like a big, marshmallow cloud, and yet...

Not that big.

“I could take the sofa,” Hannibal offered at the sight. Will winced as he followed his gaze down to the sitting pit, where the seating was more fashion than functional. Undeep, hard leather with one of those hard buttons in the middle.

“Maybe not for weeks on end, but...” Hannibal's voice trailed off, his lips twitching with uncertainty. Too much of a gentleman to take back his offer. Too much of a man in his late forties to know such a torture device would wreak havoc on his back.

“We can switch,” Will jumped in, feeling flustered by Hannibal's generous offer. Their eyes met, too close in the small space. They could flip. One night here, one night there...

Or, they could share. Both of them on that marshmallow cloud, wearing t-shirts and underwear and trying to keep their bare legs and arms on their own side...

Will felt his skin flush with the images that flooded his mind. Maybe that was just a bad idea.

**

Hannibal made them Peking duck for dinner; as efficient as he had been with his groceries, for tonight the vegetables and meat were all fresh. It was so delicious Will's taste buds wept, saliva, as they sat down at the round kitchen table, so small their shoes kept meeting in the middle.

After the dishes were cleared, Will found himself behind the sliding doors to the garden, staring off into the twilight that shimmered over the treetops.

“I won't be invasive with a phrase like _penny for your thoughts_ ,” Hannibal said, as he came to stand beside him. Will smiled.

“Such an offer is no good if you don't have a penny,” he bounced back, looking at Hannibal with a rueful smile as his hands pushed deep into his pockets.

“Precisely,” Hannibal offered, as he followed his gaze out to the treetops. There was a sigh of silence.

“I'm worried,” Will said. Not about his dogs; he had called his dog-sitter who had agreed to move into his house for as long as needed. Not about money. He had always needed very little, and his lost, little house cost him hardly more than an apple and an egg. His bank account was not a concern.

But he felt vulnerable, and in the soft light of the fire place Hannibal looked it, too.

“What if we get sick?” he said, suddenly feeling quite choked by the sight of the lonely woods before them. They were isolated. Away from home. 

“If you get sick, I will take care of you,” Hannibal spoke warmly beside him, and Will huffed, a little unsteady.

“I suppose I can consider myself lucky to be stuck here with a doctor,” he joked, but knowing the words were true. Hannibal was a talented doctor, a good conversationalist and a generous, intelligent friend. Will _was_ lucky. 

“What if you get sick?” Will asked, a little startled when he felt Hannibal's hand between his shoulder blades. Their eyes met, and Will blinked at the nearness. 

“I don't get sick,” Hannibal told him, sounding awkwardly sincere.

Will's eyes widened, still near enough to feel Hannibal's shoulder brushing his. “You don't get sick?” he asked, incredulously. Hannibal shook his head, lips pulling down as if he was digging into his memory.

“I don't recall ever getting sick, no,” he said, point blank. And Will laughed, stiff and flat.

“Are you mythical?” he scoffed. “Magical? Superhuman?”

Hannibal pondered his teasing with a kind, patient blink before he said: “I maintain a healthy lifestyle and excellent personal hygiene.” 

Will rose an eyebrow at the doctor. “While the rest of us are just... gross?” he stated challengingly, and watched Hannibal squeeze his eyes with pleasure as they landed on Will.

“Certainly not all of you,” he said, as his hand slid up to Will's neck, squeezing once, before releasing him. As Hannibal walked to dim the fireplace, Will could feel the goosebumps from his ears to the back of his knees.

**

Will had showered and dressed himself in boxers and a t-shirt before he climbed up the stairs to the mezzanine. Hannibal had offered him the bed for their first night, and he had bid him goodnight before he crawled under the fluffy sheets.

Oh my... It was even better than his bed at home.

He had fallen into slumber even before Hannibal exited the bathroom, and had started to dream about being perched upon a large dot of cotton candy when he was startled awake by a voice near the bed.

“Will?”

It was dark all around him, as he quickly flipped himself over on the mattress. Hannibal's bare legs came into view.

“I'm sorry for waking you, but this is not sustainable.”

The legs were strong and tanned with soft-looking hair brushing from the skin.

“Huh?”

A sigh. Will looked up to see Hannibal beside the bed, dressed in black boxer-briefs - _his_ pick, and a white t-shirt that clung to his well-built shoulders and chest.

Oh.

“Sorry, what?” he said, trying not to stare as he sat up in the bed, and squinting the sleep from his eyes.

Hannibal looked... embarrassed. Soft, but irritated. “That couch is not made to provide any support or comfort,” he complained. “It is useless to service as furniture.”

Ah. Realization dawned on Will, zero to a hundred. Of course. Hannibal couldn't sleep on the couch.

He chuckled, wondering if Hannibal was as flustered as he sounded. “Why are we even doing this to ourselves?” he wondered out loud, as he opened the sheets on the other side of the bed with a flick of his hand. Two friends could share a bed. 

“Hop in.”

Hannibal walked around the bed, and bare feet patted on the laminate.

“Thank you, Will.”

His weight dipped the mattress, and the sheets were divided with a pull of Hannibal's hand. They were both on their pillow, side by side, arms and legs within their own borders. It was small, but civilized. 

“This is all right,” he mumbled, before he felt Hannibal twitch and shuffle beside him. “What are you doing?”

Hannibal let out a low noise of complaint, as he flopped on the mattress. “I apologize, this t-shirt keeps pulling around my neck,” he said, yanking at the fabric that shifted with every movement. “I'm not used to sleeping in clothing.”

Will's fingers jerked against the sheets,

“Oh...”

Oh. Hannibal was used to sleeping in the nude. At home, he would take of all those layers of his suit and step into bed with nothing but skin. Tanned skin. Chest hair, Will guessed. Strong but lean muscles and a little softness around his belly. Tan lines, maybe?

Well... Maybe... He could...

“We're nothing if not adaptable,” Hannibal's voice sounded from the dark, as he rolled to his side, making himself comfortable.

“Goodnight, Will,” he said, facing away.

“Goodnight,” Will said, turning to his other side.

**

Will had slept like the dead... had the dead been wrapped up in feathery fluff of airy sheets.

“Mmmm,” he started his day with a moan, stretching his limbs out and rubbing himself deeper into the mattress. He was in love.

He was in love with this bed.

“Good morning,” a low rumble came from beside him, and Will quickly turned his head to see Hannibal, propped up on his elbows. The sound went straight down Will's back, who quickly sat up as he tried not to notice the soft glow in Hannibal's sleepy eyes.

The hair, the shirt... Hannibal looked so human. So warm.

“How did you sleep?” Hannibal asked, voice still thick in his throat. The sheets moved, showing a sliver of his stomach to Will's blinking eyes. Soft, strong and tanned, with a sprinkle of hair.

“Oh, eh...” Will stammered, as his hand slid beneath the sheets to check if his balls were still contained by his tight boxers rather than falling falling out from one of the legs. Yes... safe.

“Pretty good, actually,” he sighed. “This ridiculous bed is strangely comfortable.”

Hannibal chuckled, and the sound was beautifully smooth in the morning silence. “I share that experience,” he said, before folding the sheets open and rising beside the bed.

The scent in the fabric was oak, ocean and salted firewood. 

“Coffee?” Hannibal asked him pleasantly, as he started to head down the stairs, calves flexing with the movements.

Will groaned, stretching himself back against the sheets as he watched Hannibal's taut butt move against the fabric of the boxer briefs.

“Yes, please.”

**

By the time he had finally managed himself down the stairs, Hannibal had already made the whole room smell like dark roast, and had dressed himself in...

Oh my...

“You look very... comfortable.” Will couldn't stop himself from grinning as he walked into the kitchen dressed in a shirt, boxers and socks. Hannibal was wearing the clothes Will had picked out for him at Walmart, and was currently clad in the red hoodie, the white t-shirt and the gray sweatpants.

He looked... strong and soft all at once, as the fabric clung to his form. Will felt something fizz inside his gut at the sight; Hannibal was beautiful. Touchable. 

“I will refrain from commenting.” Hannibal spoke stiffly, as he handed Will a steaming cup of black liquid, the sleeves homely reaching over the back of his hands. “I hope you will show me the same courtesy.”

Will laughed, taking the offering as he noticed the red tinge to Hannibal's cheeks and ears. He too, felt that heat rising in his face, suddenly realizing how under-dressed he was when Hannibal's eyes brushed down his body before quickly turning himself to the stove.

“How would you like your eggs?”

**

There wasn't much to do, but still they managed to keep themselves busy. Will had put himself to reading reports on the Chesapeake Ripper on his phone, as Hannibal had made some phone calls to some of his 'more concerning' patients. The longest was with a man named Franklyn, who seemed to be ranting about odd subjects such as Michael Jackson and cheese. 

After lunch, they sat in the garden, playing chess with the board and pieces they had found beneath the couch, and sipped a glass of white wine that Hannibal had deemed 'decent' enough to bring from the store.

The early spring sun shone on their faces, as Hannibal took his queen quick and hard.

“As dire the circumstances,” Hannibal mused as he collected Will's king with long, delicate fingers. “I must admit I am glad it is you who I'm quarantined with.”

Will smiled, enjoying the view of Hannibal's hood pooling around his shoulders, and the playful lock of hair that reached down between the doctor's eyes.

“Agreed,” he said, looking down at the pitifully few white chest pieces on his side of the table. Hannibal played a mean game of chess.

“If I had been stuck with anyone else, I'm sure I would have probably stayed in bed for most of the days.”

Will heard himself speak before realizing how his words could have multiple interpretations. Some of those quite... inappropriate.

“I'm not sure if I can take that as a compliment,” Hannibal hummed, and Will felt himself go beet-red when he met Hannibal's open, playful twinkle. Those cheeks were a healthy pink in the cool air, and those arms had the fabric of the soft hoodie stretched tight over the muscles.

Will hadn't been attracted to people in a long time. In all honesty, not a single man or woman had ever combined looks and intellect in a way that interested or excited him. Hannibal, well, he had felt that pull, inconvenient as he had felt it to be there for the nature of their relationship. But it was quite clear they were a match, when it came to matters of the mind.

Physically... well, he had seen the handsome features and the sharp lines of his body beneath the suit. But he had never allowed his eyes to linger. Hannibal had just been... out of reach.

Now it was plain to see that Doctor Lecter was no longer just a handsome man who happened to be his psychiatrist and friend. 

No... Doctor Lecter was hot.

**

Dinner was leftover Peking duck with fried rice and vegetables. They had to be frugal with their resources, unknowing how long they would be isolated.

And damn, if Will wasn't counting all his blessings for being able to taste that dish again.

Hannibal unzipped his hoodie as he sat down, adjusting the collar of his t-shirt with his fingers. The material was not to his standards, Will knew, and he was honestly surprised to see that Hannibal had not yet switched back to his plaid suit, shirt and tie.

“Are you uncomfortable in these clothes?” Will asked, pulling his fork from between his teeth as he watched Hannibal straightening the fabric of his t-shirts. Those sweats had to be soft-as-butter comfortable though, whether he would admit to it or not.

“I feel very...” Hannibal shifted on his chair, hesitating under Will's openly-amused stare. “..under-dressed.”

Will had never seen insecurity in his friend before today, and it made his underbelly weaken with something that caused his muscles to ripple. Something he was too unfamiliar with to name.

“I think this suits you,” he said, sipping red wine that struggled down his throat as he laughed at Hannibal's twitching eyes. “And that pun was not intended.”

Hannibal's lips just pursed as he ate his dinner, but his eyes were open, sparkling a beautiful amber in the candlelight that Hannibal had provided. - And... Will just realized the presence of those flickering flames in the middle of the table. Those had not been there last night.

He looked at the soft glow the warm light cast over Hannibal's features, and sipped his wine, warming his gut and clouding his mind.

“I'm sorry,” he said, smiling around the rim of his glass while a certain giddiness overtook him. “I know you don't...” he sighed, placing the glass on the table as he watched Hannibal's soft fringe falling on his forehead. “...you look so approachable.”

Hannibal paused before he laughed a warm, deep chuckle that was velvet to Will's ears. “That's certainly not always what I try to express with my appearance, as a professional distance is required in my profession,” Hannibal said, as he placed his cutlery onto his plate and smiled at him.

“But I like to be approachable to you.”

**

The pictures his dog-sitter sent him made his stomach clench. Those sweet faces, those big, round eyes... they were waiting for him. Winston was looking out from his spot on the porch all day and night, the included messages informed him, and Will felt his heart ache for his family. His only family.

What if he was going to be away from home for a very long time? What if he got sick and had to stay in the hospital for a while? What if he died? Who would take care of his family then?

“You look tired,” Hannibal commented, handing him two fingers of whiskey as he slid next to him on the couch. Will swallowed as he looked into the crackling flames that licked and danced before him.

“I just worry...” he smiled, wondering if Hannibal even knew the meaning. The man always seemed to be in complete control over his emotions, as well as confident in his own abilities. Will envied and admired that, but it also made him feel _alone_. “...about all the things that could go wrong.”

Hannibal's eyes connected with the picture of Will's pack, still opened on the screen of Will's phone, before a hand came to rest on Will's forearm. “I have no such attachments outside of these walls,” he said, causing Will's skin to pull tighter around his bones. “but I, too, feel uneasy with the uncertainty of the future.”

Will turned his head to the side, watching Hannibal's amber eyes on his, pupils pushing against the outside, golden ring. He was close, hip to hip, and Will felt himself shiver despite the fire blazing in the fireplace. Hannibal had taken off his hoodie, and was dressed in the gray sweats and a white long-sleeve that revealed dark chest hair over the round collar.

“You don't worry about Jack?” Will said, thinking of something to break the silence and the tension before he would do something to embarrass himself. Like, reach out his fingers and touch that chest-hair.

Hannibal smiled, his hand remaining gently on Will's forearm. “Jack is bedrock,” he said, and Will felt a gust of air push from his lungs through his nose. _Bedrock_.

“What about Alana?” he said, feeling his shoulder slightly dip at the name. Alana was pretty. She was intelligent and kissable and she looked at Hannibal with bright eyes rather than with pity.

He had considered her something, sometime. She was good with dogs. But her purely clinical interest in his brain had felt like betrayal.

Hannibal dipped his head in consideration. “The depth of the attachment I have to Alana hardly compares to the one you have to your dogs,” he said, and Will felt his lips opening over his teeth. The whiskey and conversation bubbled warmly in his gut as he chuckled. 

“I won't tell her you said that.”

Hannibal hummed. The fire crackled in the dark, casting jumping shadows over their features.

“I usually talk people through their problems,” Hannibal said, with a gentle stroke of his voice near Will's ear. “But you already know everything I could possibly say to you.”

And Will shifted his gaze from the hand on his arm to the amber eyes that glistened in the fire light. “Don't be my psychiatrist, Hannibal,” he said, thick vulnerability to a voice that he had hoped would sound like an airy joke. “Be my friend.”

Hannibal swallowed, and Will could see his throat bob with the effort.

“And how would I comfort you, as a friend?” he asked, eyes flickering from Will's eyes to his lips. Will didn't reply, but felt his heart hammering in his chest as he traced the curve of Hannibal's lips with his own gaze. Soft and plush.

“Can I hold you?” Hannibal asked, and this time it was Will who swallowed.

“Yes.”

No kiss, but closer than they had ever been before. Hannibal folded his arms around him, pressing close, and fitting his chin on Will's head as if to shield him from the world. Will turned his head, pressing his nose into the hallow of Hannibal's throat.

Secluded in a little space that held no place for his worries.

**

Beside him, Hannibal was struggling with his shirt again. The lights were off, but in the dark, Will could feel and hear the wriggling every time Hannibal moved to get comfortable.

“Sleep without a shirt,” he said, his words muffled against the pillow he was hugging to his face. He enjoyed sleeping on his belly, but was more and more aware of the friction this position was causing on his body.

Especially with a flopping man at the other side of the relatively narrow mattress.

The struggle had to end. 

“Does that not make you feel uncomfortable?” Hannibal spoke in the dark, and Will squeezed his eyes shut against the pillow. Hannibal dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs...

“Cross my heart,” he said, shifting his hips so his filling cock was no longer pressed against the mattress.

“...and hope to die?” Hannibal asked. Will heard the rustling of the sheets, and the cotton fabric falling to the wooden floor.

“Something like that.” He smiled. He didn't turn to his other side, this time, and if the warm rush of air he felt against his forehead was any indication, neither did Hannibal.

**

Morning started with sunlight through the windows, and Will yawned as he stretched himself out beneath the warm cloud of sheets.

“Coffee?” Hannibal asked beside him, and he felt him starting to move, disturbing the fluffy cloud of sleep they were wrapped within.

“Wait,” Will whined, digging his face deeper into the pillow. “I'm so warm.”

The confession sounded childish and silly, but Hannibal stilled on the bed, snuggling deeper back into the sheets with him. One bare hand slid beneath Will's shirt and stroked his back, so gentle it didn't startle Will from his limbo state of awareness.

“You are,” Hannibal hummed beside him, closer than Will had expected. The hand stroked between his shoulder blades, down his spine, and back up again.

“Mmmm,” Will could hear himself release an obscene moan into the sheets, but his head was still too clouded for him to care. “Just five more minutes.”

Hannibal inhaled by his ear, as the tip of his nose pressed into Will's curls. “Of course.”

**

Hannibal made several more phone calls after lunch on the terrace. All of them patients.

“No personal calls to make?” Will asked, as he leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the warm sun stroking his skin through the trees.

Hannibal only huffed as he placed down the phone on the table, and reached for his tea.

Will adjusted his sunglasses, pleased he had remembered to bring them. “You know, I can't think of a single person I would want to call,” he said, eyes closed behind the glasses before they flickered curiously to his right. 

Hannibal didn't speak, but sipped his tea with half-lidded eyes. Today he wore a navy sweatshirt, combined with the gray sweatpants. 

“I would call you,” Will confessed.

Hannibal put down his tea on the table. “And I you,” he said, lips twisting up and eyes brightening in the light.

Will sat up straight, regarding his own, empty teacup as he hesitated on how to convey the message he wanted to bring his friend.

“Yesterday, you told me you don't have attachments outside these walls,” he started, his fingers playing with the teacup. Swirling it over the table with his fingers, and leaving a dry, dragging noise in its wake.

“You don't have a friend or a lover who needs to know where you are?”

He knew it was transparent. He knew it was awkward. But social interactions... 

The teacup spun, spun, spun from his fingers where it trembled near the edge of the table. Will's hand shot out to catch it, just as Hannibal's fingers clenched around the same, smooth porcelain. Their skin touched, the teacup between their hands. Saved.

“Nothing of the sort,” Hannibal said, good humor coloring his voice. “It's been a while since my last...” Fingers twitched, as did lips. “...affair.”

Neither one of them made a move to pull back from their touching fingers, as palms warmed the fragile porcelain between them.

“Yeah,” Will breathed, a little too heavily. “I don't do a lot of that either.”

Their eyes and hands stayed connected, as Hannibal leaned closer over the table.

“As I've aged, sexual relationships have lost their appeal to me with people I cannot connect with on a mental, more emotional level,” he said, and Will felt his entire body tighten with the heat that carried through the words. “Those people are hard to come by.”

Hannibal smiled, and Will mimicked him with trembling lips. “Pretty hard,” he replied, “.....yeah.”

**

Dinner was lasagna, because Will insisted on making himself useful in between Hannibal's non-stop pampering. And despite having only Hannibal's choice in groceries to choose from, he believed to have managed quite well.

Hannibal finished his plate with appreciation in his eyes that Will could not decipher as dishonest, and so the evening ended with full stomachs and wine-induced laughter. When Hannibal commented on Will's canceled lectures for the coming weeks, Will even felt a lunge of glee take him at the realization that, yes, he would not have to play teacher and avoid nosy students for a long, long while.

He just had to be here, with Hannibal, and the marshmallow bed.

For sleeping. 

The marshmallow bed was for sleeping.

**

“I can't sleep.”

Will had been staring at the dark ceiling for a while, and released the words when he felt Hannibal's shuffling on the mattress beside him.

“Why is that?” Hannibal's low rumble sounded in the dark, and Will licked his lower lip with a pink tongue. It wasn't the worries that had his brain pulsing. It was the tension, the touches, the uncolored spaces between them.

Beside filling his head and heart, offering substance to the void, it seemed Hannibal was now under his skin.

“My head is running over,” he sighed to the ceiling, as he pulled the sheets higher up around his shoulders. “It hurts my brain.” Hannibal had held him, the other day, when he had expressed his worries. Maybe... maybe Hannibal would fold his arms around him once more if he knew Will was troubled. 

But instead, Hannibal breathed in the dark. “What do you usually do to get yourself to sleep?” he asked, and Will felt himself tense on the mattress-cloud. 

What did he do? Drink whiskey and jerk off. Honestly, what kind of answer was Hannibal expecting to get from him? Herbal tea and trapeze?

Feeling annoyed and rebellious by the innocence that carried Hannibal's question, he scoffed into the darkness, and flopped himself belly down on the mattress. “Let's say I practice _self-massage_ ,” he huffed into the pillow with a dry chuckle and cheeks blazing hot against the cool sheets.

Hannibal heard him, inhaled through his nose, and turned to his side. Fingers came to rest on Will's back, so warm and light he could barely make them out. “Shall I give you a massage?” Hannibal asked him, his voice thicker, softer, as his fingertips stroked down Will's skin.

“I...” Will breathed against the pillow, his nerves all following and turning to the skin against his.

“Or shall I masturbate you?”

Hannibal's voice stroked his ear in the dark, and _fuck_ , Will felt his hips spasming on the mattress.

Will's lashes fluttered as his belly suddenly coiled with possibility, tension, need and fear. Hadn't intimacy always been difficult, dangerous, and undesirable? Hadn't any form of physical pleasure always been a nameless, heartless affair?

It couldn't be that. I couldn't be that now.

“You're allowed to say no,” Hannibal pressed gently against him, and Will rolled onto his back. His cock was filling in his boxers, but his eyes were pained on the dark figure beside him.

“It's not...” he tried. He wanted it. It was obvious that this was where things were heading. But a blind fumble in the dark was something he had done many times, to happily walk away the next morning.

Neither of them could walk away, and Will knew this couldn't be just that fumble.

Because he needed Hannibal. Hannibal was his friend.

“We haven't even kissed,” Will accused with a vulnerable laugh, as he reached for Hannibal's hand with his own. Fingers enlaced, and breath brushed along the other's cheeks.

“Sex can be just sex,” Will said, his throat thick and wet around the words. “Affairs can just be affairs.”

He breathed in, rattling his lungs. “But I don't think it could be that with you.”

Hannibal's hands slid up his throat, cupping his face and reaching close enough for Will to see the glimmer of his eyes. “No,” he agreed, his voice a single note of uncoated truth. “No, it can't.”

Will felt relief and want at the devotion radiating from his touch and his words, and crossed the small space between them to brush a careful kiss to Hannibal's lips.

“You see me, Will,” Hannibal whispered against his mouth with a hidden meaning that seemed to make all other words unnecessary, before pressing another kiss to Will's lips and deepening it with his tongue.

Yes, Will did see him. Even in the dark.

They had kissed slow, languid kisses. Their legs had tangled, and Will's shirt had been pulled over his head as Hannibal had settled on top of him. Bare chests touched, and Will had felt the chest-hair he had longed to discover tickle his skin. Hannibal's body was strong; muscles hard beneath soft skin. He smelled like fire and rain, but every touch was warm and careful, a knife through warm butter.  
Will clung to him, thighs strong around Hannibal's sides and yearning for this kind of love more than he had realized. Hannibal was showing him his patience, his devotion and his desire with vulnerability. A marking of his intentions.

Will's boxers had been pushed down between them, as Hannibal's hand had wrapped around him with little, nervous twitches of the joints. He was affected. Hannibal was overwhelmed.

Will arched his back, releasing breaths and noises from his throat as he felt himself stroked slowly and wholly by Hannibal's caressing fingers. They grazed his belly, his balls, the cheeks of his ass in the journey up, and the journey down, and Will wrapped both arms tightly around Hannibal's shoulders.

His hips pumped, chasing the movement with a little wriggle as he felt his hard flesh pulse in Hannibal's touch. It was the kindest, most nurturing touch he had ever received, or allowed himself to have.

His little moans, the wet slide of his leaking cock and the shifting sheets were the only sounds in the room, and Will could feel himself lost in the ride to completion. Hannibal was worshiping him, it seemed, without intentions of tipping him over.

He had other plans.

“Can I taste you?” he asked against Will's mouth, his voice betraying his undone state with cracks and shivers.

Taste. 

“Yes,” Will breathed, but clung to Hannibal as he tried to untangle himself from their embrace. He released him, reluctantly, but watched with wet eyes as Hannibal's shadow slipped down his body, and positioned between his legs.

He felt his breath, the vibration of his hum, before he felt a tongue lick slow and gently over the head of his cock. Will would curse, would he find the words, but instead he was breathless, helpless, as Hannibal made love to him with his mouth. There was no other term suitable, because those wet lips stroked over his head and shaft, that wet tongue slid sweet licks and sucked tender kisses to his skin, and it was nothing less than true, honest surrender.

Will watched, and saw wet eyes gleam in the dark. Eyes that closed in abandon when Will's belly spasmed, his ass clenched, and his seed spilled from his cock with maddening, over-sensitive bliss.

**

The sound of a door clicking shut woke Will from his sleep, and over the baluster, he could see Hannibal emerge from the bathroom. 

He stretched his neck, noticing he was wearing the gray sweatpants and a black long sleeve that stretched tight around his frame.

“Good morning,” he called, sitting up straighter to show his mess of curls. When Hannibal looked up and met his eyes, Will felt a wild swarm of little sparks dance behind his ribcage. Things were different now. 

Hannibal smiled, his face golden in the sunlight. “Good morning, Will,” he said, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Come. I'll make you coffee.”

They had slept intertwined, with Will's legs hoisted up around Hannibal's waist. He had tasted himself in Hannibal's kisses before they had dozed off on the marshmallow cloud that was their bed.

Bliss.

He hoisted up his boxers and pulled on his shirt before he met Hannibal downstairs. He took the offered cup with a coy smile, and accepted the kiss that followed on his lips.

“How's your head?” Hannibal asked him, as they sat down at the table. His fingers reached to caress Will's forearm, who tried to hide the smile behind his coffee.

“I wouldn't know,” he said, biting his lips as he mumbled his words, “but I might ask you, soon.”

His terrible joke went straight over Hannibal's head, as did Will's legs when the doctor nearly folded him in half not twenty minutes later.

Coffee and breakfast had been a facade neither of them could maintain for very long, because one small peck on the lips by the dishwasher was enough for the whole charade to collapse right on top of their heads.

Their journey up the stairs had been messy, and the desire Will felt seeing Hannibal in his casual clothing, had paled in comparison to what Hannibal's naked body in the sunlight did to his senses.

He had been greedy with his hands and tongue, as Hannibal had surrendered to the assault of Will's sharp nails on his skin, and his sucking mouth on his loins and cock.

“Look at the shape of you,” Hannibal positively purred when Will had rolled onto his belly, as he uncapped the bottle of lube he had stored in his suitcase. 

Will moaned when Hannibal's clean hand came to trace the curve from his waist to the swell of his ass with devoted attention.

“You like my butt,” he smiled into the pillow, as he pushed his ass back against Hannibal's touch. “I caught you looking in the office sometimes.”

Hannibal chuckled, but the sound was heated as he spread Will's ass cheeks to find the tight, puckered hole.

“You are magnificent,” he breathed, before bending close, and tasting the pink opening with a soft, flat tongue.

Hannibal had fucked him, just like that, after prying him open with eager fingers that reduced Will's prostate to a swollen mess of nerves.

Then, Will had rolled to his back, and pushed his legs far up as their foreheads touched and sweat mingled on their skin. They had been beyond words, beyond breath, beyond presence, as they plunged into the other.

It was open and raw, painfully exposed. It was everything they had ever been with each other, but without the veil of civility. It was new, yet terrifyingly familiar.

Hannibal was him, he was Hannibal, and the darkness he found there enveloped him like a long lost home.

It was all they would look for, ever again.

Hannibal came deep inside his body, and Will trembled around him, spurting between their chests and splattering them both with flowing, thick release.

It lasted forever. It lasted a lifetime. Neither one of them moved to separate, sunken deep inside the marshmallow bed.

**

“You're the Chesapeake ripper,” Will said, as he stroked Hannibal's hair with his fingers. Hannibal's head was on his chest, spooned against Will's side in the position he had previously fucked him.

Hannibal pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “How does that make you feel?” he asked him lazily, as his fingers drew patterns on Will's stomach.

Will chuckled, carting his fingers through the soft fringe. “Like I've been paid with my own money,” he said, and felt Hannibal's inhale against his naked skin.

Hannibal was the Chesapeake ripper. That, and more. He had seen it in the darkness. He had seen it beyond the veil of their union.

And he had felt within an instant that that darkness, Hannibal's darkness, was his. Was theirs.

Will lifted one arm over his head on the pillow. “Did you plant daffodils in a dead man's armpits?” he asked.

“He was alive when I planted them,” Hannibal spoke without hesitation.

“To get me to drive 16 hours with you?” Will asked, scratching a nail along Hannibal's eyebrows.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, shifting his nose closer to Will's armpit.

“Because you wanted to be with me?” Will asked, yawning despite the flutters in his stomach. His hands ran over Hannibal's head, stroking the base of his skull. He had felt, he had seen Hannibal's love, and found it full-grown rather than just sprung.

He had known they belonged.

“I figured 16 hours in your company would be heaven,” Hannibal chuckled into his pit. “Instead, I found absolute paradise.”

Will squirmed at the tickling sensation into his armpit as he smiled his teeth bare. Weeks. They would be stuck here together for weeks without a single person or job to interfere. Just him, Hannibal, and their marshmallow cloud of a bed.

Together here for as long as needed, and anywhere else every day after that.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to have made you forget about these awful times we are in for a least a couple of minutes with his ^.^I love you!


End file.
